


you're the one that I miss the most

by t_hens



Series: reddie [14]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, Mentions of Cancer, Slow Burn, Sooooo much pining, but they do drift apart, earning the E rating finally, mentions of puking, no memory loss, reconnecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:14:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23159119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_hens/pseuds/t_hens
Summary: Richie runs into Eddie the first night he's back in New York and his plans for a quick trip in and out getslightlydelayed.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: reddie [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534337
Comments: 18
Kudos: 89





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I plan on this being three chapters, but there is a likelihood it might be more. 
> 
> tags/rating will be updated as needed

Richie’s alarm blaring too loud on the bedside table is the first thing he’s aware of as he’s pulled out of the first decent sleep he’s had in weeks. He whines into his pillow, kicking his feet in protest because, yeah he’s 25, but he’s also alone and no one can accuse him of acting like a toddler if they aren’t there to witness it.

Finally giving in, he mutes the sound and hauls himself up and into the shower. While shampooing his hair he tries to remember if everything he was going to need was packed. If it wasn’t for his agent Steve, he probably wouldn’t be bothering to pack more than his wallet and a pack of cigarettes but Steve’s been trying this whole ‘make Richie act like a real adult’ thing and it blows.

-

Steve’s knocking incessantly at the door when Richie’s finally clean and dressed. It’s a bit surprising he hasn’t just barged in like usual but maybe he’s giving him the benefit of the doubt that he was actually ready. That, or he forgot his key.

“I’m fucking awake, you can stop beating down my door,” is the first thing he says once he’s opened the door and stepped out onto stoop.

“Don’t act like you don’t need daily wake up calls,” Steve shoots back, grabbing the bag by Richie’s feet. He puts it and his carry on backpack in the trunk, shutting it firmly.

Instead of dignifying the comment with an answer, Richie sniffs dramatically and asks to stop for coffee, which Steve only agrees to because Richie offers to pay.

-

Flying has never really been Richie’s _thing_ , but he knows sometimes it’s necessary, like when he has to go to New York for a week of meetings. LA is too far of a drive, though Richie did have a good time coming up with an elaborate road trip agenda for him and Steve, who promptly told him he’d rather get shot than spend that much time with Richie. 

The confirmation for his flight was in his email ten minutes later.

-

His flight arrives safely and he finds the driver Steve arranged for him easily. They are sitting in traffic, the slow grind of rush hour pulsing around them and Richie’s leg jiggles impatiently. Traveling always made him a bit keyed up and he’s debating using one of the anti-anxiety pills his doctor had suggested for moments such as this, but before he can reach for his bag, his eyes fall on a shop on the street.

“Uh,” Richie calls from the backseat, kicking himself for not getting the drivers name.

“Ray,” the man supplies, his easy smile a direct contrast to the way he’d been honking and throwing hands at the other driver literally thirty seconds before.

“Yeah, uh Ray, do you think it would be possible to stop at that bagel shop there?”

He points and Ray’s eyes spot the shop he’s talking about. Ray nods and starts maneuvering his way to the curb, yelling and flipping the bird, but manages to get them parked only half a block away. 

-

When the door opens, the familiar scent of bread and spices hits his nose and he can’t help the deep inhale he takes. A dopey smile pulls at his lips and he ducks his head and goes to look at the cases to pick something out. 

It’s been years, at least five, since he’d last been there, but it somehow was exactly the same as he remembered. It was as if this tiny shop in Midtown had somehow remained untouched as the world around it changed and grew without it. 

A bell dings from the door opening but Richie doesn’t bother looking up, still focused on picking the perfect bagel. He’s turning to go to the counter when he collides with someone, just barely managing to catch them before they fall.

Wide doe eyes look up at Richie, and he’s remembering the last time he was here with painful accuracy. 

-

It was late September and New York was getting colder and meaner and Richie had accomplished all he felt he could in the city. He had plans for LA and some promising meetings, but even as he actively planned to leave, a part of him wanted to stay. 

That part, and the whole reason he’d even stayed in the city for more than a month in the first place, was there next to him, looking up the ingredients in a buckwheat bagel that claimed to be gluten free.

“Eds, you’re not even allergic to gluten, just get the damn bagel,” Richie told him.

Eddie, who Richie had known for as long as he could remember - who he’d followed to New York without much thought - his best friend in the whole world, glared at him before turning back to the case.

“You know, people often develop food allergies as they age. Just because I _wasn’t_ allergic doesn’t mean I _couldn’t_ be.”

Richie rolled his eyes, more than used to Eddie’s specific brand of inherited germaphobia and neurosis. He went to the front and ordered them each one of the cinnamon ones, because despite his protests, Richie knew it was his favorite.

They braved the cold air outside so they could walk back to Eddie's dorm and ate their bagels along the way. It was quiet, both of them focused on eating and not getting shoulder checked by the other pedestrians, but unlike most of their walks where they would pretend to argue over trivial things or remain in companionable silence, the walk was tense and a bit sad.

Eddie had been the first person Richie had told he was leaving. He’s avoided it for as long as he could, because talking about it meant possibly telling Eddie why he was hesitant to leave, and that was a big bag of nope. He’d been harboring his secret love for Eddie deep in his chest since before he even knew what that meant, and there was no way he was gonna spill those beans and then hightail it across the country. Eddie deserved much more than that.

When they arrived at the door to Eddie’s dorm, Richie hesitated. Eddie gave him a questioning look as he fumbled to unlock it without dropping his gaze.

“Why are you making that face, dipshit?”

The door finally opened and Eddie stepped inside, leaving Richie to stand awkwardly in the hallway, wringing his long fingers.

“I uh- I have to get up early. My bus leaves at like 5,” he said lamely, trying not to focus on the obvious way Eddie’s face fell.

“Oh. It’s Friday, I thought we were gonna get pizza and watch Die Hard like usual?”

Guilt churned heavy in Richie’s belly, but he shook his head and kept his eyes on his worn chuck taylors. “Nah, I just think I should probably make sure I have everything and that the apartment is okay. I kinda need that deposit back,” he chuckled humorlessly.

“Okay.” Eddie didn’t move and neither did Richie, but he gazed up at him with those big brown eyes and he felt his resolve wain, so instead of dragging things out, he pulled Eddie into a hug so tight there was a slight pop in his spine, but he didn’t complain. He let Richie hold him, squeezing tight around his middle until Richie pulled away and gave a half-hearted smile. 

“Bye Eds.”

The last image he had was Eddie’s large brown eyes filling with unshed tears as the elevator door closed the space between them.

-

It takes a full thirty seconds for Richie to realize it’s actually Eddie he’s holding on to. When he does he moves quickly to stand Eddie back on his feet and back away as much as he can in the crowded shop.

“Eds,” he says, eyes roaming over him greedily.

“Don’t call me that,” he replies instantly, like no time has passed between them at all.

Richie huffs a laugh and the tension between them breaks as they move together and hug. They don’t get long to revel in their reunion before people are yelling and shoving at them to get out of the way. A series of loud snort-laughs leave him as he watches Eddie point his finger in a soccer mom’s face and tell her to fuck off. They are almost the same height, which makes Richie laugh harder. 

-

They take their bagels and leave the shop before they are kicked out. Standing on the street just outside, Richie takes a giant bite and moans exaggeratedly just to see if Eddie’s face will still flush at the sound (it does).

“So how’s everything been, Spaghetti Head?” he asks, mouth still full of food and Eddie pretends to retch.

He composes himself after a second and shrugs, looking down at his bagel like it’s somehow offended him. Richie had ordered them both their usuals, but with the way Eddie frowning at his, maybe his memory isn’t as good as he thought.

“Everything okay?” He asks, anxiety creeping up his spine. 

Eddie tears his eyes away from the offending food and stares at Richie for a second before shaking his head like a dog fresh out of water.

“Shit, sorry. It’s been kind of a crazy few weeks and I definitely didn’t expect to see you here of all places.”

Shifting from foot to foot, unable to stay still as he tries to decipher the expression on Eddie’s face.

“Sorry I never like, called or anything. I got my wallet stolen within like three days of being in LA and that’s where I kept your number and I _know_ I could have tried a lot harder to get a hold of you, but things were crazy and I-”

He’s cut off by Eddie pressing a hand to his mouth, removing it before Richie has a chance to lick his palm, just like he always did.

“RIch, I’m happy to see you, it just was unexpected.” They nod at each other, the flush creeping up Eddie’s face matching his own. “What are you doing in town?”

Scuffing his shoe into the asphalt below, he tries to look modest when he says: “I’m meeting with some people from SNL. My agent thinks I would be a good addition to their writing team, and maybe someday part of the cast, but that’s like,” he makes a vague gesture towards the sky, “forever away. If the meetings even go well.”

Eddie’s smile, still full of the dimples Richie remember and a few lines around his eyes that are new, but still make his knees feel a bit like jelly, especially when all of Eddie’s focus is pinned on him.

“That’s fucking amazing!” The punch he lands on Richie’s arm is more powerful than he remembered and he makes a mental note to check for a bruise later.

“Thanks, Eds. So what about you?”

Eddie’s face morphs into something unfamiliar and his smile is too tight when he replies. “Oh things are great. I just finished school last fall and I got a really good job at an insurance firm. They’ve already started talking about promoting me so that’s cool.”

It’s easy to tell that something is off, but Richie decides not to pry. He hadn’t exactly been there for Eddie in the past few years, it wouldn’t be fair of him to expect full transparency (even if that was how it used to be).

“That’s great,” he tells him instead. 

There’s a beat of silence and then they both start speaking at the same time. 

“So do you mayb-”

“Well, I got-”

They both hesitate before Eddie gestures for him to continue. 

Clearing his throat, and willing his nerves to dissipate a little, he asks, “Do you maybe wanna grab dinner or something? Catch up on old times?”

Eddie makes a pained face at him. “I actually really need to be heading home, I was supposed to be back like an hour ago.”

Doing his best to not look as disappointed as he feels, Richie nods. “Oh yeah, of course. I get it.’

“But maybe coffee tomorrow?” Eddie says, after a long pause.

“Yeah, that would be cool.” Richie nods, trying for nonchalance.

Eddie rolls his eyes, but there is a smile tugging at the corner of his lip and it makes Richie’s heart soar. As does the phone number Eddie scribbles on a receipt in his wallet. ( _I’m not writing it on your fucking skin, Richie. Have you ever heard of ink poisoning?_ ).

-

They say their goodbyes and Eddie turns towards his destination and Richie heads back to the car, still running with Ray waiting.

“Fuck, sorry it took so long. I ran into an old friend,” he explains as he folds his too-long legs into the back seat. 

“It’s all good Mr. Tozier, it gave me a chance to catch up on my sudokus.”

There’s a joke on the tip of his tongue about Mr. Tozier being his father, but his eyes fall back down to the piece of paper containing Eddie’s number in his neat scrawl. 

He has the number memorized before they can even make it back into traffic.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Eddie have coffee and things don't exactly go _great_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an endgame, I promise, we're just taking a bit of a detour.
> 
> not beta'd so good luck *dyslexic finger guns*

Richie feels like he’s sleep walking in the best dream his mind has come up with in a long time.

His meeting with SNL had gone entirely better than he could have ever hoped for. Everyone laughed at his jokes and gave him good feedback on the material he’d brought with him. An offer was mentioned, and the details sent to Steve to review. 

All of that felt like background noise though, to Eddie’s voice on the other line of the phone telling him he could meet for coffee in an hour. Richie’s feet were moving towards the destination before he was even aware; his entire being lit up with the idea of spending time with Eddie again.

-

Richie is sipping his fourth cup of coffee by the time Eddie shows up. He’s wearing a plain black suit that isn’t really his fit, but it doesn’t matter because he’s panting and there is red high on his cheeks and sweat clinging to his hairline. Richie has to adjust his position in his chair so that the beginnings of an inconvenient boner don’t show and get him arrested.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. I was supposed to be off at three today but then fucking _Arthur_ had to bring me six more priority files like I wasn’t already up to my goddamn elbows!”

His ranting is catching the attention of the other patrons, but Richie doesn't give two shits. _This_ was how he remembers Eddie; small but fierce, talking a mile a minute like if he didn't say it in one breath he’d never get it out. 

Flopping himself down in the chair, he eagerly accepts the lukewarm cup of coffee Richie pushes his way.

“I wasn’t sure what to get you, so I just did one sugar and some cream since that’s how you used to take it.”

It’s probably incredibly obvious how bad he’s blushing, and it only gets worse when Eddie pins him with his intense stare - eyes almost the exact same shade of brown as Richie’s coffee. 

“Thank you, that’s really…” Eddie doesn’t finish the sentence, just kind of stares at Richie like he’s a particularly difficult math problem.

“Of course,” Richie supplies before things have a chance to get too much more awkward. “How’s your mom doing? I bet she misses me dearly.” He clutches at his chest dramatically but falters when he sees the look on Eddie’s face.

“Uh, mom died last spring.”

“Oh, fuck dude. I”m sorry I shouldn’t have-.”

Eddie cuts him off, raising a palm and waves it quickly in front of his face, nearly knocking his glasses off.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s fine. She had cancer and was miserable and it really was for the best. Besides Myra _hated_ me having to go back and forth between the house and the hospital all the time.”

Richie’s brain stutters over the unfamiliar name, not catching the rest of his words.”Myra?”

“Oh,” Eddie’s face twists into an embarrassed grimace,“that’s my uh,” he mumbles something so quietly Richie has to lean forward and ask him to repeat it.

“God,” Eddie huffs, throwing his hands up and slamming back in his chair. “She’s my fiance, okay?”

Richie’s stomach twists and for a second he’s genuinely concerned he might puke right then and there, but he takes a deep breath and hopes Eddie doesn’t notice how white his knuckles are around his mug of coffee.

“Oh. That’s great.”

(He knows Eddie can see right through him, but what else is he supposed to say? ‘ _I’m sorry that I left out of nowhere and never tried to call and showed up out of nowhere. Also hey, side note, I think I’m in love with you, even after all this time._?’ Yeah right).

“Uh, yeah, we’re actually getting married this weekend.”

Richie actually has to bring a fist to his hand to keep himself from chucking up his overpriced lattes but he covers it as a cough and tries to smile in a way that doesn’t make him look like he’s being held at gunpoint.

“Oh, wow! That’s really cool Eds.” Richie almost apologizes about the nickname when Eddie’s face flames, but Eddie plows on. He tries not to think of what the pink on his cheeks means.

“Yeah, Bev and Ben are gonna be my best men, or like best people I guess?”

Richie scans his brain for a second and when it finally matches the names with the faces, his chest fills like a helium balloon.

“No shit! God, I haven’t seen them since like, high school.”  
Eddie nods The first smile of the day that’s brought out his dimples makes Richie glad he’s sitting down because it makes his knees feel distinctly jell-o-like. 

“Yeah, Bev and I were in the same business class for our senior year and Ben was interning at an architecture firm a few blocks from where I work now, so we’ve got to keep in touch it’s been nice.”

Envy lays hot in Richie’s belly, but it’s not because Eddie had got to spend time and remain close with some of the only friends Richie ever had. No, it was because they got to spend those years relearning Eddie and watching him grow into the man he is now. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth but he pushes forward.

“Do you talk to any of the others from the gang? The - what did we call it? The Loser’s Club?” 

He and Eddie laugh together, drawing eyes to them again. Once it dies down Eddie takes a sip of his certainly cold coffee, and starts talking about their friends. He tells Richie about Bill, who lives in Portland, Oregon writing horror novels. Mike runs a snack shake on the beach in Florida in the winters and still helps his family in the summers. Stan, fucking Staniel Urine himself, was living in Atlanta, apparently kicking ass in the accounting world.

“Yeah,” Eddie says when he’s finished catching him up. “They’re all gonna be here for the wedding, Saturday. Or well, they’ll be here Friday for the rehearsal dinner. If you wanted to, like come too.”

The words hang between them and Richie’s brain wars back and forth with each other over what to say. Technically he only has one meeting Friday, and seeing as how his meeting today went, it won’t take long. He would _technically_ have plenty of time to shop for something nice and get ready. 

But.

That meant having to see the woman that gets to spend the rest of her life with Eddie. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to keep himself together long enough to do that, but with Eddie looking at him like one of those ASPCA commercials with his big brown, puppy dog eyes, it was hard to imagine telling him ‘no.’

“Yeah, that would be great. Get to catch up with everyone.”

It’s the right answer, given Eddie’s beaming smile, but Richie feels a bit sick. He feigns using the bathroom so he can sneak outside and grab a smoke. He knows it’s a disgusting habit and causes cancer but at the moment, the rush of nicotine is calming his nerves and that’s making it worth the risks.

-

Eddie comes to check on him just as he’s rubbing the cigarette against the bottom of his shoe to put out the cherry.

“Smoking is a dis-” he starts and Richie holds up a hand to stop his rant before it begins.

“I know, I know. Please don’t go all ‘Just Say No’ on me right now.”

Eddie rolls his eyes,“That was for drugs dumbass, not cigarettes.”

Richie shrugs his shoulders and glances at his watch to avoid looking at Eddie and risking him seeing the vulnerability written all over his face.

“I think I’m gonna have to head out. I have a lot of paperwork I have to go over with my agent.”

“Oh yeah! Your meeting! How did it go!”

“Uh, they offered me a writing spot. And agreed to let me work with the cast to see if I’m a good fit after a year if I’m doing well.”

“Rich! That’s incredible!”

He shrugs, trying not to take his sour mood out on Eddie. “Yeah, I’m pretty excited. It’ll be different but I think I’ll like it.”

They stand in silence, nodding at each other before Richie grips the back of his neck and throws a thumb behind himself. “Well, I gots to be goin’ Eds. Text me the information about Friday.”

He hears Eddie say something in response, but Richie is hoofing it in the opposite direction of hotel just to put some space between them, as if that will change the way his heart feels like it’s being splintered in two. 

-

By the time he’s back to his hotel room, he’s shaking and feels a panic attack nipping at his heels so he sits down on the lumpy mattress and takes deep breaths and wills himself to calm down.

His phone rings and he worries for half a second that it’s Eddie but he sees Steve’s name and huffs out a relieved breath.

“Hey Rich,” Steve starts, not even bothering to wait for him to reply.

Richie lets him continue, letting the sound of offers and figures lull him into a fog, his mind temporarily not thinking about Eddie and the stupid dinner he’d agreed to join that was surely going to be the end of him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thought about leaving this with a cliff hanger but idk when I'll be able to write the next part and didn't wanna be a dick.
> 
> also not beta read so you know, good luck

Richie is staring at the glowing exit sign posted over the door, trying to determine if he’s fast enough to make it to the door before anyone would notice he left.

He isn’t allowed much time to consider. Stan sits beside him and places a highball glass in front of him that has a healthy amount of amber liquid in it.

“Thanks man. Who doesn’t do an open bar, right?”

Stan rolls his eyes. “This is the rehearsal dinner you dumbshit. The wedding _will_ have an open bar, and I’m sure you’ll clear it out just as soon as you can.”

He doesn’t respond, just sips on the bourbon Stan brought him and does his best to keep his eyes away from where Eddie stands stalk still next to Myra and what is assumed to be her family. 

The most interaction he and Eddie had all night was when Myra and Eddie stood at the entrance to the banquet hall and said their hellos and waves. Myra had spotted the eager smiles being passed between the two of them, and promptly steered Eddie away by his elbow to more appropriate guests apparently.

Mike joins their table, all smiles and bright eyes, slapping Richie cheerfully and apologizing profusely as his drink gets spilled all over his dress shirt.

“Shit man, I’m sorry. I ruined such a nice shirt! I’ll pay for the dry cleaning I promise!”

He starts to dab at the stain but Richie stops him, not wanting to draw anymore attention to their table.

“Don’t worry man, Bev picked it out today. This was probably gonna be the only time I was ever gonna wear it anyway.”

-

Bev had called him at the crack of dawn, demanding he get up and shower and meet her and Ben for coffee. He did, because Bev was the type of woman you didn’t leave waiting around; not when she was a kid and especially not now. 

They caught up, snacked on pastries and drank coffee until Ben apologized and said he needed to head to a meeting. He bowed out which left Richie alone in the hands of Bev.

“So,” Bev says, folding her fingers together and resting her chin on them. Her bright green eyes feel like they are seeing right through him and he doesn’t even bother beating around the bush.

“Okay, out with it Marsh. What’s with the look?”

She feigns innocence, leaning back and placing her hands on her heart like an old timey southern belle. “Why Richard, whatever do you mean?” She even does a voice and it makes a smile crack through the flimsy wall he had been trying to keep up.

Dropping her hands, she looks at him again, thoughtful this time. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay tonight? I mean, Eddie said that you said you were coming, but I just....” 

“Just what?” Richie waits but she doesn’t continue so he does. “Just thought that it would be really horrible and gut-wrenching for me to see the guy I’ve been in love with since I was like thirteen get married to some fucking lady that probably doesn’t even know that he needs to sleep with the bathroom light on and he’s _actually_ allergic to kiwis and-”

Bev reaches forward and places a hand over his mouth. She doesn’t say anything, because she knows Richie better than anyone, except maybe Eddie, even after all this time. Makes him wish he’d done a better job of keeping in contact.

When she backs away he starts over. “So, _maybe_ I’m having some issues with it, but so what? If this is what he wants, I’m not gonna try and stop him. I’m not gonna barge back into his life and ask him to fucking, I don’t even know, run away to LA with me and be my boyfriend or some shit? Like I don’t even know if he likes guys and even if he did, why the fuck would he want some trashmouth?”

There’s more - Richie could fill the whole damn Grand Canyon with the amount of doubt and self loathing he feels every day, but that isn’t what Bev is talking about so he shakes his head to try and get back to the present. He blows a harsh breath out and rubs his fingers under his eyes so hard he sees spots. 

“I’m sure he would understand if you didn’t want to go. It’s a lot to ask of you.”

Richie shakes his head, but he doesn’t remove his fingers from pressing into his eyeballs. “No, I’m going, I just need to have a few breakdowns throughout the day to get it all out of system.”

That earns him a snort and a light punch in the arm. 

He lets Bev pull him out of the coffee shop and down the street to a million different shops until she deems one appropriate and he lets her run the show since she knows a fuck ton more about hem lines than he ever wants to.

-

The actual rehearsal doesn’t take very long, but Richie spends the entire time outside hiding out back smoking a cigarette he’d bummed off of Bev. He takes a long drag and watches the smoke vanish into the black sky, becoming just another wisp of smoke in the polluted sky.

There is some sort of metaphor about all of his friends being inside with each other and Richie being outside alone and self-isolated, but he doesn’t want to let his brain linger there too long tonight. His skin already feels too tight for his body and his heart has been beating so hard it’s a miracle anyone else hasn’t heard it.

He hears the door to the hall open and it’s closely followed by footsteps drawing nearer to him. Not bothering to stop smoking, he just takes another drag and blows it skyward to not get any on this mystery person. He’s not _that_ much of a dick.

“You okay?”

Of **ALL** the people Richie might have thought would follow him outside, Eddie was the very last, second only to Myra, who hadn’t given him more than a scowl all night.

“Uh, just some uh,” he points upwards towards the sky, “getting some fresh air.”

Eddie blinks at him, unamused. “You’re smoking, you’re only making the air worse, not fresher.”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot you New Yorkers are so concerned about the environment and stuff.”

He starts to take another drag when Eddie rips it from his fingers and stomps on it.

They stare at each other for what is only a handful of seconds but there is so much tension it feels like a rubber band about to burst.

Richie thinks about kissing him. Closing the distance between them and doing the thing he’s thought about doing since his first kiss with Karen Holmes, who he could only make himself kiss if he pictured it was Eddie. He thinks of Eddie melting into his arms and kissing him back and an ache settles in his chest so bad it feels like a heart attack. 

His mind supplies him the other version too though, because his brain is an asshole. He can see leaning in and Eddie’s disgusted face. Telling him he’s gross and Eddie could never love someone like him.

The door opens before any option is able to make itself known, and Richie grasps it in his hand and runs with it.

“Staniel! You’re not leaving so quickly are you?”  
“Uh,” Stan looks around confused. “I was just gonna head back to the hotel and change cause Bill and Mike wanted to go for a drink. Do you wanna join?”

“‘Course I do!” He waves back towards Eddie but doesn’t dare look back. “See you later Eds, happy wedding day tomorrow.”

He doesn’t know what Eddie’s face looks like, and judging by the look on Stan’s he’s glad he doesn’t. Coaxing the guys into the car takes a few moments but after a minute they are driving back into the city and Richie tries to figure out how many drinks it will take to keep him blacked out until his flight Sunday.

-

He doesn’t manage to stay asleep until Sunday, but he makes it to late Saturday afternoon. 

His hangover isn’t half as bad as he probably deserves, so he tries to appreciate how lucky he is. He takes a shower, orders some food and texts Steve to check in.

Although he knew everyone would be at the wedding, he still feels a bit perturbed when no one checks up on him. But that’s probably his own fault, he reasons. He did show up to his friend's rehearsal dinner, get drunk and make an ass of himself, so maybe it’s fair that none of them ever want to talk to him again.

Richie pokes at his cold mashed potatoes and gives them a few unnecessarily hard pokes before putting them back on the cart and crawling into bed, hoping he’ll actually get some sleep for once.

-

Ray takes him to the airport the next morning, spending half his time screaming and cussing at the other drivers on the road and the other half telling Richie about his grandchildren. He feels a twinge of guilt that he didn’t spend more time with Ray, who was the first person Richie really liked or even spoke to, but Ray assured him he would be his full time driver once he moved to the city to start with SNL. 

This makes Richie’s ears turn red hot and he makes a sniffling noise that is _mortifying_ but Ray gives him a hearty clap on the shoulder and sends him on his way.

He checks the boards and sees that of course his flight is on the opposite end of the airport, so he starts walking, hoping that expelling some energy will make the frantic beating of his heart calm a little. 

-

He’s nearly there, three terminals to go, when he hears some call his name.

It’s not entirely uncommon for people to recognize him; he’s getting quite a following really, but it is still new enough that it feels a bit exciting and novel. 

Richie turns with a smile on his face, ready to sign something or take a funny picture with a fan when he comes face to face with the voice that said his name:

Eddie. 

Who’s sitting by himself.

Completely alone.

-

“Holy shit, Eds. What are you doing here?” His eyes skirt across the single suitcase and carry on bag at his feet. He tries not to feel hope.

Eddie, who had been sitting up straight and stiff, sags defeatedly. “Going on my honeymoon.”

Richie glances around, unsure if there is some sort of running joke or prank going on that he isn’t in on. “What about Myra?”

Even just saying her name makes Richie want to gag and scream but he holds it in, because he really wants to be a good friend, even if it sometimes makes him feel like he’s dying.

Eddie looks up at him and just stares for a few seconds before shaking his head. “No wedding. We aren’t getting married.”

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry man.” Richie takes the empty seat next to Eddie and gently puts a hand on his shoulder, patting lightly. 

He shakes his head again, a little harder this time. “It wasn’t really a surprise. I think we both knew it wasn’t gonna work.”

Richie keeps his mouth shut for once, not voicing the millions of questions bouncing around his skull begging to be answered.

“Okay, so are you leaving the state because her family is in the mafia or something?” Richie baits, because he knows Eddie will take it.

“Oh for fuck sake, Richie, you know there isn’t some giant underground mafia system. You need to stop watching all those corny 70’s movies that are just a bunch of gross white guys snorting powdered sugar pretending it’s coke.”

Richie guaffs loudly and doesn't even bother feeling bad about the dirty looks thrown their way.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Eddie continues,”I already took two weeks off for the honeymoon and it’s all inclusive and it’s all paid for so I might as well go.”

“Oh, Eds, that’s so sad and pathetic.”

Eddie glares at him, “Well what the fuck is your plan Mr Big Shot? You gonna go back to your tree house in LA and jerk off to a kale smoothie or some shit?”

It takes several long seconds of Richie laughing/hyperventilating for him to be able to actually reply. 

“Fuck, I forgot how good you could always get one off, Spaghetti Head.”

Eddie glowers at him and punches him hard when Richie taps him in the arm. It’s so reminiscent of their childhood, and how they used to be, it almost makes him forget they aren’t going to see each other again for at least a while. The thought sobers him up quickly.

“Well, fuck. I gotta get going.” He hitches his thumb towards the arrival and departure board. “Cali is waiting.” 

He stands and is trying to figure out how to ask for a hug without making things awkward when Eddie shoots up and grabs his wrist.

“Wait. Rich, do you uh,” his grip tightens, making Richie grimace but he makes no move to break away. “Do you maybe wanna go with me?”

Richie blinks at him for several long seconds before his brain processes what he was just asked. 

“Like join you on your _honeymoon?_ ”

Eddie’s face goes through a range of expressions before landing on annoyed. 

“Well it’s obviously not a honeymoon dumbass. It’s an all expenses paid tropical vacation. And I _thought_ it would be nice gesture to _offer_ but I guess I was -”

“Eds.” Richie grips his shoulders and gives him a gentle shake. “I would love to join you on your tropical vacation, please stop screaming, you’re scaring the children.”

He glances around nervously, just to be sure there aren’t actually any children around and then turns back to Richie. “Really? You wanna come with me?”

Voice so earnest and hopeful, eyes like a goddamn newborn puppy. Who the hell could say no to that? Certainly not Richie Tozier. Not since he was thirteen and probably not for the rest of his life. 

“Of course. I just gotta make a few calls okay? Clear my schedule.”

Eddie nods and sits back down next to his belongings, agreeing to watch Richie’s while he calls Steve and works on getting his ticket changed.

-

Steve’s not happy with him, but since he nailed the SNL thing, he can’t be too mad, so he agrees to clear the schedule with the agreement that he has to start looking for an apartment the minute he steps foot back into New York, which hello, easy. 

Eddie’s calmed down by the time Richie returns, looking up from his phone to give him a hesitant smile. “Get everything figured out?”

Richie nods and flops himself down into the chair. “All sorted. Two weeks vacation and then apartment shopping in the big apple.”

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, holding his head in his hands. “I’m gonna have to look for one too when we get back.”

“Hey, look on the bright side, we can be apartment bros and look together.”

Eddie mostly snorts at this suggestion, but goes back to reading the news or whatever he’d been doing on his phone. Richie pulls up craigslist for New York and shows Eddie the very worst ones he can find.

He doesn’t show him the pages of apartments he’s saved to actually look at. And he certainly doesn’t think about what it would be like to live in one of those apartments with Eddie, just the two of them.

Richie shoves the thought away as their flight is announced. He follows Eddie to the plush first class seats and does his best not to blush too furiously when the stewardess announces them as “The Kaspbraks, the happy newlyweds” to all of first class. Eddie’s ears turn magenta but he stays quiet so Richie does his best to sink down into his seat and pray for a fast flight.

How in the hell is he gonna survive two weeks of this?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the best two weeks of Richie’s life, hands down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here she is, the final chapter. I hope you enjoy!

By the time they are up in the air and the ‘fasten your seat belt’ sign is off, Eddie is already getting a wary eye from the stewardess as she pours his third glass of champagne. Richie is sure she would love to tell him no, but it’s first class and Eddie has that murdery sort of look in his eyes right now, so she’s smart and moves on.

“Hitting the booze kinda hard don’t you think there Mr Sinatra?”

Eddie gives him a scathing look and downs the rest, maintaining eye contact the whole time. If Richie wasn’t a little worried, he’s sure he’d be popping a boner.

“I’m on my honeymoon, I'm allowed to drink,” Eddie says, wiping delicately at the drop of champagne that escapes onto his chin. Richie has an errant thought about licking it off before the stewardess is back and filling Eddie’s glass without being asked.

“I thought this _wasn’t_ a honeymoon,” Richie presses, resisting the urge to bump into him and spill his drink.

“It’s not,” Eddie snaps, cheeks reddening even further than the alcohol has already made them.

Richie decides to hold his tongue, not wanting to find out if he is still capable of pissing Eddie off so bad he starts screaming and throwing things.

-

The resort, or hotel, whatever it is, is fucking incredible, but all Richie can think about is getting upstairs and taking a nap. Going from LA to New York had been one thing, but now they were in a whole other time zone completely and his brain felt like it was going to turn into soup and start coming out of his ears soon.

Eddie checks them in and they ride in the elevator in silence. It feels awkward between them courtesy of the person at the front desk calling them a beautiful couple and wishing them a lovely honeymoon. With every insinuation that they were a couple, Richie’s heart twists in some sort of masochistic pleasure and Eddie’s face screws up like he’s being asked to be in charge of the pooper scooper at the dog park. 

The room is gorgeous and massive, but holds no other furniture to be slept on other than a bed. 

“I think I’m gonna take a nap, “ he says. Richie starts assessing the state of the floor and how many throw pillows it would take to not kill his back to sleep down there, when Eddie interrupts his thoughts.

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor. We’ve slept in the same bed before, you know.”

Richie has words on the tip of his tongue to argue, because yes that may be true, but they were also kids and Richie may have still been in love with Eddie back then, but he also wasn’t as likely to get hard sleeping next to him when they were ten.

“Okay,” he replies, doing his best to sound casual. 

“There’s uh,” Eddie starts, staring down at the throw pillows stacked high on the bed. “There’s reservations for dinner in the restaurant downstairs, if you were hungry. Or we could order room service and stay here.” He snaps his head up and catches Richie in his wide, startled gaze, “Or like, if you wanna go somewhere by yourself, or like want to order pizza, just whate-” 

His speech has reached the pitch that only dogs and Richie are able to understand, so Richie does what he always did what he did when Eddie freaked out when they were kids. He grips him by the shoulders and gently shakes him, taking deep, calming breaths that Eddie immediately starts imitating the rhythm of. 

It’s a seamless process - practiced, tried and true. Their childhood and teens years were full of bullies and parents who either cared too much or too little. They learned young to depend on each other instead of the adults in their town.

“You okay?” Richie asks once Eddie’s breathing has returned to normal and he isn’t shaking any longer.

“Fuck yeah, sorry. Don’t know what happened,” he mumbles into the plush carpet beneath their socked feet.

“You’re good, you don’t have to apologize. Dinner sounds great. Let me change and we can go okay? Nap can wait till after dinner.”

“If you have a nap after dinner, it’s just going to bed dumbass.” 

-

The restaurant is nothing _too_ fancy, Richie’s been in fancier places, thank you very much, but Eddie looks absolutely dazzled and Richie becomes that much more smitten, even going so far as to pull the chair out for him, which earns him a quirked eyebrow, but also a flush of pink across his cheeks and a pleased smile.

“Ah, hello to The Kaspbraks, the happy Newlywed couple! My name is Jay and I will be your server tonight,” a young man tells them, handing them menus and pouring glasses of champagne into the flutes on the tables. 

Richie eyes Eddie to see what his reaction is so he can follow in suit, but Eddie just gives the man a pleased smile and sips the drink.

A couple the next table over, in their early forties maybe, tells them congratulations and somehow they are roped into a conversation that ends in comparing engagement stories while they slurp the most delicious fancy soup Richie’s ever tasted.

“So what about you two?” Mrs Madison asks. “Who proposed?”

Richie starts to open his mouth, ready to make up the most ridiculous, outlandish story he can muster up but Eddie beats it to him.

“It was fall in New York, and we were on a walk,” he says, and Richie’s attention snaps immediately to him. He tries not to act like this is the first time he’s hearing this story, even though his heart is banging away against his ribs.

“We went to this bench that we always stopped at when we went for walks and there were always dogs there so we’d pretended to do voices for them.”

Richie chuckles, because they _did_ do that, a couple of times a week when they could. The familiarity makes goosebumps break out against Richie’s skin and he’s thankful for the long sleeve button up Steve had made him pack.

“I was really nervous, because I’d been wanting to ask for ages and ages so when he was doing this ridiculous voice for a wiener dog, I took his hand and asked him to marry me.”

Richie remembers that day. He remembers the walk and the voice and the exact wiener dog, but Eddie never proposed. That had been the day that Richie had told him he was moving to LA. Why that particular memory was the one he used, Richie couldn’t be sure, but he does his best to hide the confusion on his face from the Madison's, who are fawning over them like they are a couple of gay puppies.

-

The ride back up after dinner isn’t as awkward as it was earlier in the morning, but it’s certainly not comfortable. The rest of dinner had been a little stilted as soon as the Madison's left and there was no one to distract them from each other.

“I think I’m gonna shower,” Richie says as soon as they enter the room. He heads straight for his bag and digs out his toiletry bag and some pajamas.

Eddie doesn’t respond and Richie does his very best to not care. Things between them feel so foreign it’s making him feel a bit queasy. He pushes past though and gathers up his things and stands to head to the bathroom.

There’s hardly any space between himself and Eddie when he stands back up and he aches to erase it but he would never pressure anyone to do something they didn’t want to do, especially not Eddie. 

“Shit, sorry Eds,” he says and chuckles, giving him a light punch on the arm in a bro kinda way, mentally screaming at himself for being so cringey.

“Wait, RIch.”

Eddie pulls gently on his elbow harder than he means to and ends up tripping forward and landing in Richie’s arms. His mind is screaming a million different things at him - most of them about kissing Eddie - but it’s the flush in his cheeks and the eager part in his pink lips that has Richie leaning forward to press their lips together.

It’s the most glorious four seconds of Richie’s life, truly the highlight of his relatively short existence, at least until Eddie is pulling back and looking up shocked at Richie.

He feels like he’s been plunged into a bucket of ice water and backs away from Eddie, jerking his body away even though all he wants to do is stay. It looks like Eddie is going to say something, but he doesn’t get the chance as Richie runs to the bathroom and shuts the door.

Minutes, or maybe hours, pass before Richie can catch his breath again and he no longer feels like he’s going to cry his eyes out. He starts the shower and cranks it to the highest heat, wanting to have something to distract himself from the heavy ache in his chest.

This whole thing is stupid. Richie knows better, he’s always known better. There’s a reason he never made a move or said anything, because he didn’t want to ruin their friendship, so what does he do instead? Kisses him. _God, why is he such a fuck up?_ he asks himself as he steps into the shower.

-

It’s not long after Richie enters that there is a timid knock on the door. It’s obviously Eddie, because who else could it possibly be? but Richie stays silent, letting Eddie make up his own mind about what to do.

The door opens a few seconds later and then clicks shut. Steam from the shower has the entire room fogged up like a sauna and without the aid of his glasses, Richie can’t really see shit, but he can make out the blurry shape of Eddie, still in his smart dinner cardigan and slacks.

“I’m sorry Rich,” he says, surprising him.

“Why are _you_ sorry?” Richie asks, hating how sad and defeated his voice sounds.

“I should have been more clear when I invited you on the trip, that was my mistake.”

Though he tells himself there wasn’t, of course Richie is still hoping against hope that there is even the most minuscule chance that Eddie could want him back, but the words hit home and affirm all the things that Richie thinks and heard about himself his whole life.

“No, I’m sorry, it was my fault. I forced myself on you like a predator, I didn’t even ask.”

Richie feels himself nearing hysterics and the shower head continues to pump out scalding water. He distantly wonders if this is what Hell is like.

“No, Rich, that’s not what I meant. Would you turn that god damn water off! I can’t breath!”

He moves on auto pilot and turns the tap so the flow stops and he hears Eddie sigh in relief.

“Thank you.” He takes a deep breath and then continues. “I _meant_ , that I should have told you how I felt. And why Myra and I split up.”

“Why did you split up?” Richie asks, despite himself.

“Because when she saw the way I kept looking at you at the rehearsal dinner, she said that she knew what you were like, that my mom had told her a bunch of stuff about you and how you were dirty and bad news for me. And I just -” he pauses and takes a deep breath again, trying to slow himself down. “I realized I was using her as a crutch to not do anything more than I had to. After you left I just kinda moped around and mom set us up and I just let it happen, but then you came back and I remember what it was like to be me. I remembered being with you. It was like I woke up.” There’s another long pause before he adds, “I remembered how in love with you I am.”

Richie stands there, not bothering to hide the fact that Eddie’s made him cry. “Fuck dude,” he sniffles, as he opens the frosted glasses door and peeks his head out to squint at Eddie. “I was gonna confess my undying love but you just had to go and out do me, huh dickhead? Always so competitive.”

“God, fuck you,” Eddie wheeze laughs and surges forward, grabbing Richie around the neck and pulling him into a scorching kiss.

Richie follows his lead, partly because he’s sure Eddie isn’t about to have it any other way, and also partly because he’s a little love drunk and not sure he has the full functional use of his brain as all the blood in his body is pooled between his legs.

“Fuck, Eds,” he groans into his mouth. He opens the door more so he can step out onto the plush bath mat and press Eddie’s body against mine. 

Eddie squirms against him, shoving him away. Richie has half a second of worry before realizing he’s giggling.

“You’re getting me all wet Richie!” Eddie squeals as Richie shakes his head like a dog fresh out of a lake.

“Oh, you ain’t seen anything yet babycakes.”

For probably the millionth time this week, Richie sends out a big _thank you_ to Steve for making Richie eat more than just take out and pizza and visit a gym more than once every two years, because he’s able to pick Eddie up and tow him over his shoulder. He steps carefully into the shower and puts the water back on to a normal temperature before depositing Eddie down in the middle of the spray.

There’s a small part that is expecting him to be pissed, but Eddie just squeals and giggles and when he’s finally on his feet, he’s pulling Richie in closer and capturing his mouth again.

-

One by one, Eddie’s clothes hit the floor of the shower and gather the slowly cooling water. By the time they are both naked Richie is so hard his cock is almost purple and Eddie is leaking into the palm wrapped around it.

“Want you to fuck me,” Eddie pants into Richie’s neck when he glides his finger over the tip and spreads the precome slowly.

Richie’s cock twitches in interest but he does his best to use the brain on top of his head and not below his belt.

“Are you sure?” 

“I appreciate you being sweet, but I need you to put that over sized cock to use please,” Eddie snarks, and god damn, if being bossed around by this little freckled demon doesn't do something for him.

“Okay, okay hold on.”

Richie gets out of the shower carefully and digs through his toiletry bag, pulling out a small bottle of lube and a condom out to take back with him.

Eddie’s leaning against a shower wall, eyes closed and head thrown back as he teases his cock with a shaking finger that strokes up and down the length slowly. Richie has to grab the base of his dick before he comes on the spot right then and there.

“Am I dreaming? Because this is like every wet dream I’ve ever had,” he says, crowding up against him and sucking a mark on his neck. Eddie keens and grips hard onto Richie’s shoulders, arching into his touches.

“Please just fuck me already,” he complains.

“How do you manage to be so fucking sexy but also so bossy at the same damn time?”

Eddie peels his eyes open and winks as he turns to face the wall like Richie’s hands are directing him to. “Just talent I guess.”

Richie makes a possessive grunting noise that he’s such he’ll get shit for later, but he decides to focus on the task at hand and pours a generous amount of lube onto his fingers before bringing one to his rim and slowly working a finger in.

“Were you expecting to get lucky on this trip?” Eddie asks through as gasp as Richie slips in to the first knuckle.

“Why Edward, are you jealous?” The Southern Belle Voice asks Eddie, and Richie can practically _feel_ him rolling his eyes.

“No,” he replies grumpily, which makes Richie huff a laugh, giving Eddie’s ass a firm squeeze.

“I’m a healthy, semi-okay comedy writer, who isn’t the ugliest person on the planet, it’s not unheard of for me to get laid. But, you wanna know a secret Spaghetti?” Richie asks, posing the question right as he pushes in the second finger.

“What?” Eddie gasps, not even bothering to tell him off for the nickname.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to do this to, so does that make you feel a little bit better?”

Eddie’s head thunks against where his arms are braced on the marble shower wall and he nods his head, his smile and dimples obvious from Richie’s position behind him.

-

Eddie says he’s ready a few minutes later and Richie’s sliding on a condom and slowly sliding in within the next few breaths. It’s hot and tight and just fucking _everything_ Richie’s ever wanted. A few tears fall from his face and fall on to Eddie’s lower back, but he either doesn’t notice or is kind enough not to mention it.

They take a breath once they are bottomed out, both feeling dizzy with pleasure.

“Fuck,” Eddie keens, legs shaking underneath him. “It’s so good. I love you.”

“Oh god,” Richie whines and thrusts wildly, making a near scream leave Eddie.

He doesn’t have a chance to ask if he’s okay though, before Eddie is reaching back and pulling their mouths together and grinding back on Richie's dick like it’s his favorite thing to do in the world.

“Love you so much,” Richie tells him, the tightness in his stomach increasing with every thrust. 

Eddie reaches down between them and tugs on his cock as Richie widens his stance and his thrust lands directly against his prostate. It takes no time at all before he’s painting the walls white and clenching so tight around Richie’s cock that he sees white.

He starts to chase his release and digs his fingers in tightly to Eddie’s hips. There’s no doubt that tomorrow there will be bright bruises in the shape of Richie’s fingertips and he feels guilt wells up in his chest, fighting for dominance against his chase for his orgasm.

“Fuck, sorry,” he grunts into Eddies shoulder, trying to ease up and grab harder all at the same time.

“It’s okay. You’re doing so good, you’re doing so good baby.”

Richie yelps like he’s been burned and he’s pumping the condom full, gripping even harder at Eddie, but not able to give too much thought as his soul feels like it leaves his body.

He lays against Eddie’s for a moment to catch his breath, both giggling through their ragged breath.

“So you like being called baby huh?” Eddie taunts.

Richie digs his fingers into Eddie’s ribs, though stops quickly when it causes him to squirm and they both quickly realize why that’s not the best idea when they’re both so sensitive.

-

They help each other out and dry off before climbing into the huge bed together. Eddie tucks himself into Richie’s side and he’s reminded of when they were kids and Eddie would have a nightmare at a sleepover. Richie was always there to comfort him and they always ended up sleeping curled around each other. He wishes he could tell the younger version of himself to be brave but to also be patient, because it’s worth the wait.

“Why did you tell that story when you were pretending to tell an engagement story,” Richie asks, the memory popping into his head.

“Oh,” Eddie blushes. “I was gonna tell you how I felt that day. Like, I don’t know, ask you to be my boyfriend or something? But then you said you were moving and it just didn’t make any sense to say anything so I didn’t.”

Richie can practically hear his heart breaking but he gathers Eddie in closer to him and presses kisses anywhere his lips can find. “Fuck I’m so sorry. I love you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, we’re here now,” Eddie assures him.

Richie knows they’ll never be able to get their lost time back, but he resolves to do his best not to waste anymore.

“I love you, Eddie,” he whispers.

“Mmm,” Eddie sighs happily, pressing a soft kiss to Richie’s stubbled cheek. “Love you too.”

-

It’s the best two weeks of Richie’s life, hands down. 

They spend all of their time swimming and making out, laying out in the sun and learning each dip and curve in each other’s body. They sleep in late and drink delicious liquor that’s sweet out of the cup and even sweeter on each other’s lips.

The flight back to New York is quick and simple, both of them heading to the room Steve booked for Richie until he found a place. Eddie tries to decline and says he’ll pay for his own room but Richie drops to his knees and blows him that night before they go to sleep and it’s no real surprise that he’s fine with it the next morning. 

-

It takes exactly three weeks and four days from getting back from the trip for Richie to find the perfect place. 

A two bedroom penthouse apartment with a little garden on the roof and windows with a beautiful view. Eddie’s eyes are the size of coins when Richie brings him in to get his opinion.

“It’s fucking amazing Rich, you have to get it.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely gonna. And Steve said, even if SNL doesn’t work, I can still afford it doing my stand up and side writing to that’s cool.”

Eddie gives him an exasperated look. “Of course it’s gonna work out. You’re fucking hilarious and smart and hot. You’re gonna make the rest of them look like losers.”

“Mmm, who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend? I haven’t been called a dumb ass in like thirty minutes.”

“Dumbass,” Eddie smirks, starting to pull away. 

Richie holds on, pulling him back and wrapping him in a hug. He presses a gentle kiss to his lips before looking deep into his eyes. He takes a deep breath and decides to get it over with.

“Will you move in with me?”

Nothing happens. Neither of them move or speak for what feels like forever, until Eddie laughs out loud, so hard that Richie has to let him go.

“Why are you laughing?” Richie asks, trying to mask the hurt in his voice.

Eddie sobers quickly and covers his mouth, looking contrite. “No, fuck sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you I promise. This is just all so crazy.”

Richie doesn’t have to ask what he means, because he knows. Ever since that first night they’ve been attached at the hip and sure, words like co-dependent and honeymoon phase have been thrown around by some people they know, but Richie doesn’t know how to explain it. Being with Eddie feels right. Like two complementary colors - perfectly fine on their own but even better together. 

“I would love nothing more to live with you. I’ll live with you, and maybe someday we can get married and have kids and pets and the whole nine yards. This is it. I’m in.”

Richie’s cheeks are positively aching from smiling so wide, but he still gathers Eddie’s sweet, sun freckled face, and kisses him with all the love and tenderness he has. They stay like that for so long by the time they part the sun is already low in the sky.

They both look a little kiss-drunk and both are hard enough in their pants they will have to cool down a little before going out in public, but that’s fine they have time.

“I’m glad you stopped and got that bagel,” Eddie says, voice muffled where his face is pressed against Richie’s chest.

He laughs, and feels like he’s draped in a warm blanket of joy. “Me too, Eds. Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think! I have ideas for timestamps, so if that's something you're interested in, pls let me know!

**Author's Note:**

> ty Moody for all the love and encouragement <3


End file.
